Very Deadly Yours (5 page)

It was. Its wail was cut short abruptly as it swooped toward them. Two white-jacketed paramedics jumped out and instantly began checking Ned's vital signs. “Pulse is thready,” one murmured to the other. “He's in shock.”

Just as quickly they checked to see whether any bones were broken. “Looks okay, but I'm worried about the head. Better radio them what we're bringing in.” They slid a stiffened piece of canvas under Ned, eased him onto a stretcher, and lifted him into the back of the ambulance.

“You were with him when it happened?” one of the men asked Nancy.

“Yes,” she answered in a distracted voice. She was trying to watch what was going on in the ambulance.

“You want to ride to the hospital with him?”

“No, I'd better take my own car.”

“All right. Let's go.” He jumped back into the ambulance.

“Which hospital?” Nancy called.

“Highland Memorial,” the paramedic shouted back. Then the ambulance shot out onto the road. The shriek of the siren flew back to them as the car vanished from sight.

“Goodbye. I've got to get over there,” Nancy told Mr. Whittaker. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow, depending on how he is.” At that moment, the investigation seemed like some kind of faraway dream.

“You look upset,” said Mr. Whittaker. “Wouldn't you like to come into the building and get a hot drink or something before you go?”

“No. No, I can't, but thanks anyway,” she answered. “I've got to get over there as fast as I can!”

Mr. Whittaker patted her on the shoulder. “He'll be fine,” he said. “Let me know if there's anything I can do.”

“I will.” Nancy turned on her heel and ran for her car.

• • •

Two exhausting hours passed. Nancy's eyes hurt from the glare of the fluorescent lights in the emergency room's waiting area. Three cups of black coffee on an empty stomach were making her feel even more jittery than before.

The time crawled since Ned had been taken in to be examined. Nancy had tried to call his parents, but they weren't at home. She'd called her house to let her father know she wouldn't be home for dinner. She filled a nurse in on what had happened, and then she waited. And waited.

Across the hall from the waiting room Nancy could see the nurses' station. Twice she had gone to ask if there was any news. The second time, the nurse had obviously been so frazzled that Nancy didn't dare ask again. The activity in the waiting room only made things worse. Babies were squalling; an enormous woman across from Nancy was crying softly, a father and son were having an argument about whose fault the accident that had brought them there had been. On top of everything else, the room was infuriatingly hot.

Nancy closed her eyes and leaned back in her molded plastic chair. She kept thinking about Ned's parents. What was she going to say when she finally reached them? “I'm sorry, but Ned's in the hospital because of my job.” “Your son's been hurt because he stopped by to see me.” She knew she was blaming herself more than Ned's parents would, but she couldn't help it. She loved
Ned and he was badly hurt. She prayed for good news from the doctors.

“Miss Drew?” She opened her eyes again. A man in a white coat was leaning into the waiting room. “Could I have a word with you?” he asked.

“You still haven't reached the boy's parents?” he asked when they were outside. She shook her head. “Then I'll fill you in on what's happening.

“Fortunately there are no internal injuries.” Nancy sighed with relief. The car had hit Ned so hard that she knew internal injuries had been a very real possibility. “But he does have some head injuries, though we're still not sure about their extent. We're waiting for the X rays now. I think you might as well go home for tonight. We won't have the results for a while.”

Nancy cleared her throat. “All right. Can I say goodbye to him before I go, or will that be too much of a—too much of a strain for him?”

“I'm sorry,” the doctor answered kindly. “I didn't make myself clear. Mr. Nickerson hasn't regained consciousness yet.”

“He's still unconscious?” Nancy whispered. “How long will that last?”

“We can't really predict, Ms. Drew. It could be twenty-four hours before he comes to.”

“Twenty-four hours?”

“The length of time doesn't necessarily mean anything,” the doctor added hastily. “Of course we'll do a CAT scan if he isn't conscious by then. But that's a very remote possibility.

“I do think you ought to go home and get some rest,” he said again. “You're not doing either of you any good by waiting around. Not when he doesn't even know you're here.”

• • •

Wearily Nancy pushed open the front door of her house. She walked into the living room and threw herself down on the sofa, too tired even to call out that she was home.

But her father had heard her come in, and he came running in from his study. “How is he?” he asked.

“Terrible,” Nancy said bluntly. It was all she could do to keep her composure as she filled her father in. “I've just come from his house. I went over there after I left the hospital and waited in the driveway until they came home.”

Nancy shuddered. “Oh, Dad, I hope I never have to do anything like that again! They'd just come home from a party. They were so happy to see me—” Her voice broke, and she threw herself into her father's arms.

“Are they at the hospital now?” her father asked.

“Yes. They jumped back into the car and drove away without even saying goodbye,” Nancy said. She looked as forlorn as her father had ever seen her.

“You've had a terrible day, and I think you should go right up to bed and sort things out in
the morning,” said Mr. Drew. “A good night's sleep will—”

Just then the telephone rang. Nancy jumped nervously, but she heard Hannah hang up almost instantly. Then Hannah came into the room, her face strained and anxious.

“They hung up again,” she said. “It's been happening all evening. I keep thinking it'll be news of Ned, but all I hear is a click and the dial tone.”

“Oh, no!” Nancy whispered. With everything that had happened, she completely forgot the case she was working on. Was the caller somehow connected with her investigation?

“What's the matter, Nancy?” her father asked. “I mean, what
else
is the matter?”

“I'm just wondering if—”

The telephone rang again. Nancy took a deep breath. Then she strode into the hall and picked up the receiver.

“Nancy Drew here,” she said crisply.

Silence—and then a husky voice. Nancy couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman.

“Just think of this afternoon as a little warning,” the voice said. “And stay out of my way from now on!”

N
ANCY, WHAT'S THE
matter?” asked Carson Drew, who had followed her into the hall. “Is it something about Ned?”

Nancy shook her head. “No. It's my case,” she said. “Somehow the guy who's been threatening Bess is on to me. He's the one who crashed into Ned, and now he's after me. The thing I don't understand is how he knows who I am or that I'm trying to track him down.”

“He wants you to drop the case?” her father asked.

“Yes. But now that Ned's been hurt, there's no way I'm going to give up until I see this would-be murderer brought to justice.”

Her father bit his lip. “Nan, I know we have this talk about once a month,” he said. “And I know you won't quit a case just because it's dangerous. But it seems to me that you may be too emotionally involved. Couldn't you turn this one over to the pros?”

“Dad, I can't quit—you know that,” she said quietly but firmly.

Carson Drew sighed. “All right. I can't talk you out of this, but let me warn you about one thing—”

“I
know
the case is dangerous,” Nancy said.

“No. What I was going to say is that you're going to have to be especially careful on this case. You're doing it for personal reasons, not professional ones. So you'll have to make sure your emotions don't get in the way of your judgment.” He smiled at her. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she answered.

“So go to bed!” her father said. “Things really will look better in the morning, honey.”

“I hope so.” Nancy kissed him good night and dragged herself up the stairs.

It was hours before she could sleep. Every time she'd doze off, a vision of the car zooming toward Ned would jar her awake, and she'd find herself sitting bolt upright in her bed, her heart hammering in her chest.

The birds had started singing when Nancy finally fell asleep, and the harsh buzz of her alarm clock woke her with a start. Groaning, she
sat up and squinted at the clock through eyelids that felt as if they were lined with sandpaper. Seven-thirty. Her head was throbbing.

Nancy flopped back down onto the pillow, hiding her face in the crook of her arm. After a second, though, she forced herself to sit up. She wasn't going to be good for much that day if she couldn't even get up on time.

“Feeling any better?” Hannah asked her after she went downstairs.

Nancy grimaced. “Well, the shower helped some. No, I don't want any breakfast, Hannah—just some coffee. I have to get over to the hospital.”

“Better call first,” Hannah advised. “There's no sense in making a trip if they're not going to let you see him.”

“Good point.” Nancy's hand was shaking a little as she dialed the number, but when she hung up she looked like a new person.

“He's awake! He's doing fine!” she caroled, catching Hannah by the waist and whirling her around the kitchen. “His parents are with him now, but the nurse said it'll be all right if I stop by in about an hour. Oh, I can't believe it! May I change my mind about breakfast, Hannah? Suddenly I'm famished.”

• • •

“Ned?” Nancy peeked timidly around the door of his hospital room. “Are you awake?”

“Nancy! I've been waiting for you!” Ned's voice was a feeble imitation of itself. “Come on in. Sorry I can't get up.”

Nancy's face fell when she saw him. He was very pale, and his eyes glowed with a feverish brightness. She couldn't help feeling that the boy lying in the bed wasn't Ned at all.
Her
Ned had been replaced by a total stranger.

But Ned was looking worried now. It must be all too obvious what she was thinking. Nancy cleared her throat. “Nice outfit,” she said lightly, pointing at his green hospital gown. “Is that the best the hospital has to offer?” She crossed the room to kiss him.

“Afraid so. Hey, don't look so scared,” he whispered, clutching her hand. “I'm okay. Really. I have a concussion. It could be a lot worse.”

“Oh, Ned . . .” For a second Nancy couldn't speak. “I—when that car hit you, I thought . . .”

“I'm
fine.”
Ned's voice was stronger now. “I only wish I could prove it to you. But I guess that'll have to wait a couple of days.”

“I love you so much,” Nancy said. “Do you
promise
you're not mad at me for getting you into this?”

“Mad at you? Nancy, if that car had hit you, I'd never have forgiven myself.”

Nancy smiled wryly. “Well, now you know how I feel.”

“Nancy, no one's mad at you. My parents are
just glad I'm okay. Now calm down and give me a kiss.”

When Nancy lifted her head, she looked a lot happier. “Okay, I'll take your word for everything,” she said.

“That's good.” But suddenly Ned gasped. “Don't worry, it's—it's— It just hurts a little,” he muttered. “They can't give me any painkillers.” His teeth were clenched. “I'm sorry, it makes it a little hard to—”

“Ms. Drew?” It was Dr. Meinhold, the same physician who'd spoken to Nancy the night before. “I think it's time for Ned to get some rest.”

“Of course.” Nancy bent down and kissed Ned again. “Stay away from the nurses, now,” she said as cheerfully as she could.

Ned's eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He opened them to give her a quick smile, gripped her hand for a second, and turned his head away. With a lump in her throat Nancy followed Dr. Meinhold out the door.

“Don't worry if Ned seems to—well, to come unplugged over the next few days,” the doctor said when they were out in the hall. “He's in a lot of pain.”

“Can't you give him something to make him feel better? It's horrible to watch him suffer like that.”

“We can't, Ms. Drew. We're still concerned about his head injury. No drugs until we're sure his brain's really recovering—medication might
suppress new symptoms. I know it's hard to watch, but it's really best for him.